


I'll face it with a grin, I'm never giving in

by missafairy



Series: The show must go on [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, F/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23129380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missafairy/pseuds/missafairy
Summary: Dean struggles, but at least he finally admits that he does.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/You
Series: The show must go on [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1662526
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	I'll face it with a grin, I'm never giving in

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags :) Edited by @wingedcatninja. THANK YOU!!

You were sitting at the dinner table, going through bills for the last month. You could barely pay them all with your lousy salary from the diner you worked at. Dean still hadn’t found a job and something told you that he wouldn’t find one. You had to admit that it scared you a little bit. You didn’t know how long you could manage with just one salary. 

Dean wasn’t in the best place either. You wondered if it was just a minor sadness caused by losing his job or if it was something much more serious that he had been able to hide for so long. You offered to listen if he wanted to talk, but he shut you down. You found some therapists and assured him that you could afford them - which in your current situation wasn’t exactly true - but again, Dean didn’t even let you finish;, you had to yell to make sure he heard you behind the closed doors of the bathroom where he hid from you. Dean kept telling you that everything was fine. He smiled and told you that everything was going to be okay.

You had no idea what was going on in his head because he never told you. You had no clue about the demons he was fighting and what was worse you didn’t know why Dean didn’t want you to know. You didn’t realise how bad it was because he never gave you a chance to find out.

When he stroked your hair late every night, when he thought you were sleeping you wondered why he couldn’t tell you the truth. You thought he trusted you. You wanted him to trust you as much as you trusted him. But did you really trust him these days? After everything he had put you through? He was your everything, but you worried he didn’t know that. You couldn’t help but think that you had done something wrong, missed an opportunity to talk to him, to make him feel better. Closing your eyes you sighed, thinking of how tired you were. 

The sharp slam of the door made you jump. Dean was home. You wondered where he had been all day while you struggled to make ends meet.

“Heya,” you heard him and you hid your face in your hands, waiting for him to walk into the room. You didn’t have to see him to know he was drunk. It didn’t happen often, but it still bothered you. “Hi!” he yelled again, clearly wanting you to respond. ”I’m home, baby!”

“Hi,” you said, turning around to see Dean leaning against the door frame.

“What’s up?” he asked casually with his usual grin, and you saw a bottle of whisky in his hand even though he tried to hide it behind him.

“Where were you?” you asked, ignoring his question.

“What do you mean?” Dean’s brows furrowed and came closer to her. “I told you I was going out with Benny,” he said.

“You told me you’d be back by dinner,” you said.

“I-”

“I called you seven times,” you whispered, not trusting your voice, interrupting him. “You didn’t pick up and I was worried so I called Benny,” you said, unable to stop the tears from blurring your vision. Even then, you could clearly see the expression on Dean’s face, but you couldn’t figure out what it was. “He hasn’t heard from you in weeks,” you sobbed, getting up slowly. “Where were you?”

You stood in front of him, breathing in the not at all subtle scent of alcohol. Dean looked back at you, his fingers wrapped around the bottle tightly. He seemed calm, but there was something in his eyes that betrayed what he really felt. His lips trembled when he watched the tears fall down your cheeks.

Just when he thought he couldn’t possibly feel any worse, he realized that he could.. The pain he felt in his chest when he heard your sobs was worse than anything he had ever felt. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He could tell that you were angry. Feeling the disappointment wash over him, all he could do was lower his eyes so he didn’t have to see yours. He knew it was bound to happen, he knew you would find out about everything sooner or later. Deep down, he knew that his worst nightmare was about to become reality - you would leave him and he wouldn’t be able to carry on anymore. And yet he hoped you would just let him get away with everything.

“Where were you?” you asked quietly once again, annoyed that he didn’t even try to explain.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, his voice raspy and unsure. “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

“You’re sorry? Do you even know what you’re sorry for?” You confronted him. “Where were you?! Answer me!”

You could no longer maintain even a semblance of calm. You were beyond angry with him. Dean was the love of your life and there wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for him, but he had gone too far. 

The range of emotions was suffocating him, he could barely stand in front of you. Shame and guilt were making his throat close up. He tried to take a deep breath to calm himself down, but it seemed like the air never made it to his lungs. He whimpered, trying to breathe in once again. He felt the sudden urge to tell you everything, but he was afraid you wouldn’t be able to handle the truth. He was afraid of cutting the last thread that kept him alive.

You could see that something was wrong. Dean looked... broken. He was hyperventilating and his breath was ragged and shallow. His eyes were unfocused and were blindly looking into yours. You noticed he was shaking, the bottle in his hands looked like it was about to shatter on the floor. You furrowed your brows and grabbed his arm.

“Dean?” you said hesitantly.

He shook his head and stumbled backwards, muttering something under his breath. At first you didn’t understand, but then you realised he was breathlessly gasping ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again.

His back finally met a wall, and his legs gave out, his body fell to the floor. The bottle slipped from his sweaty fingers, but didn’t shatter. You stood frozen, too startled to move. Sure, you saw him sad, you saw him angry, hell, you even saw him crying, but this was different. You gulped, blinking furiously, tears streaming down your cheeks. You walked up to him and kneeled by his side.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered between sobs, shutting his eyes, pulling on his short hair.

“Dean... Dean stop it!” You panicked, trying to grab his hands, the pulls so strong you knew he was hurting himself. You tried to hold his arms, but he was too strong for you.

“Go away!” He yelled, trying to back away from you, sobs shook his body violently. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I can’t!”

You couldn’t help but feel guilty about confronting him the way you did, but you had no idea you would cause a reaction like this. You had never seen anything like this before. When he walked in he had sounded happy. Like he wanted nothing more than to hug you and plant sweet kisses on your hair. So how did this happen? How could you let this happen?

“Dean, please,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm. “It’s okay, it’s okay!” You tried to hold his hands down, but he kept pushing you away.

“Nothing’s fucking okay!” He shouted, now furiously trying to wipe the tears away. “And you’re going to leave and I...” he didn’t want to finish the sentence. He couldn’t say it aloud. He couldn’t tell you that he would die when you left.

“I’m not, Dean,” you said softly. You finally managed to hold him down. Unable to fight you anymore, Dean curled up on the floor, hugging his shaking body with his arms.

You crawled closer to him, pulling his limp body towards you so that his head was on your lap. He couldn’t push you away anymore, he had completely lost control over his trembling body.

“I’m not leaving, baby,” you whispered into his ear.

“You will,” he whined.

“It’s okay,” you said, kissing his wet temple. “You can tell me anything,” you promised without hesitation, but in fact you were scared of what he might tell you. You wondered what could make you leave him. You were afraid that he cheated on you and couldn’t handle the guilt. You weren’t sure if you could handle the truth, but it was still better than not knowing.

“I can’t,” he whimpered. “Fuck, I can’t, I’m so sorry! You have to leave because I can’t live like this anymore!”

The truth was you weren’t sure what to do. You didn’t know how to feel or what to expect, but the way Dean behaved convinced you that he shouldn’t be left alone. You feared he might hurt himself, or worse. Now all the signs you had seen over the past few months made more sense. Sure, he was great at hiding his emotions, but that in itself should have been a red flag. You shouldn’t have just counted on him to tell you what was going on. You should have known that everything he had been through in his life might have led to this breakdown.

“Whatever it is,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I promise,” you said, kissing his cheek, tasting salt tears on his skin. “I’ll hear you out and then we’ll talk this through, okay? I’m not leaving you, I love you, Dean. If-” you had to stop and take a deep breath before you were able to continue, “if there’s someone else, whatever you’ve done, baby, I’m here. Let me help you, because now I know for sure that you need help!”

Dean shook his head violently. He tried to tell you something, but the sobs and the ragged breath made it difficult. The awful, tight feeling in his throat and the pain in his chest wouldn’t allow his thoughts to focus.

“No, no!” he cried again and you felt him shift in your arms. With his shaking arms he grabbed you, a little too harshly to be honest, and buried his face in your belly. “Not... that,” he stuttered and you stroked his hair gently.

“Not that? What, uh, not what? You didn’t...” you hated yourself for giving yourself false hope. “You didn’t cheat on me?” you asked hesitantly.

“I didn’t,” he said and you let out a breath of relief. “I swear...” he sobbed.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you whispered. “I’m here. I’m not leaving,” you assured him.

You were still mad at him for lying and who knows what else, but more than anything you were afraid. Maybe after this, after breaking down in front of you, he would finally open up to you. You sat on the floor uncomfortably, with Dean sobbing on your lap and you stroked his hair, holding him tight. When his sobs eased and he stopped trembling, you hesitantly encouraged him to get up from the floor.

Without a word, cautiously avoiding your gaze, Dean got up and seemed to be waiting for further instructions, looking like a lost child. You reached for his hand and pulled him lightly to the bedroom, trying not to think about how his body seemed to just passively do what you prodded it to do; the sound of his feet dragging heavily on the floor; the emptiness in his eyes. Because if you thought about it, it would overwhelm you, and you needed to stay strong for him now. You stopped next to the bed and faced him, his eyes still focused on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again.

He didn’t feel anything anymore. Everything was just numb, there was no guilt, no pain, no urge to cry. Dean thought of your reassuring words that you wouldn’t leave him, about your gentle fingers on his temples, trying to convince himself that you were telling him the truth, that maybe, just maybe you could help him. He felt your cold palm on his stubbled cheek and he looked up hesitantly.

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” he whispered. “I love you,” he said. “I love you so much and... I’m afraid of losing you,” he admitted, lowering his gaze, unable to look you in the eyes.

“You won’t lose me, okay?”

“How do you know? I didn’t just lose the job,” he said. “I got fired, because I was fucking drunk!”

Your eyes widened and you opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out. Apparently Dean’s problems had started way before you thought they did.

“I will never find a job again,” he said and you couldn’t help but feel a little scared by the tone of his voice. “I went for a few interviews, but then I was just... getting drunk at the side of the road,” he confessed quietly and you swallowed hard, waiting for the rest with trepidation. “Then I got arrested for that bar brawl and today I... God!” Dean felt your hands squeezing his and he knew he couldn’t back out anymore. “The bottle I brought home today I... I stole, just like all the other bottles,” he said and pulled his hands from your grip. “I just didn’t want to feel,” he whispered like he tried to convince you that you were in fact going to leave him.

“Dean, we’ll figure it out,” you said. “Together, I promise!”

“You deserve so much better,” he told you, taking a step back.

Worried, that he might just turn around and leave, you grabbed his arms and pulled him strongly towards you.

“No!” you said, panicking again. “I know you’re struggling, but you have to know that I love you and that we’re in this together.”

Dean stood in place, not trying to flee anymore and you took a deep breath.

“Come on, you should rest,” you said calmly.

You unbuckled his jeans, unzipped, pulled them down to his ankles and pushed him to sit on the bed which he did. You took off his shoes, socks, and then you took off his trousers. Tears were shining in his eyes again, but he was too empty inside to actually cry again. You took off his jacket too and walked to the side of the bed to pull away the covers. With an inviting gesture you made Dean lay down in your bed. He could almost feel the relief washing over him when you covered him with the coverlet and climbed into bed, hugging him tightly.

“Don’t you dare leave me, do you understand?” you whispered, kissing his temple. “You are the best thing that happened to me,” you confessed. “We’ll be okay, we’ll find help.”

“I love you,” he said surely.

“I love you too,” you responded.

Dean lay down, not knowing what to think. There were so many contradicting emotions and thoughts that he was barely able to focus on any of them. He savoured the feeling of your lips on his skin, your soft fingers running through his hair, your warm breath on his cheek. Yesterday, he questioned what he lived for, but now he knew he couldn’t give in. Maybe it would be easier to face everything now that you knew what was going on. Still a little dizzy from hyperventilating, his mind a little hazy from the alcohol, he closed his eyes, finally feeling safe in your embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading  
> ~missafairy


End file.
